The story of Lily Evans
by Frances Odair
Summary: Lily has spent six uneventful years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizadry, plauged by the constant presence of the arrogant James Potter. But is it time to let him in, just a little? Better than it sounds. Please review.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

On fire.

That's how my hair looks as I drag myself out of bed in the morning. It's untamed, wild, flaming, bright red. It looks like I foolishly struck a match and tied it to my hairbrush, whilst in the middle of untangling my hair. Possible a scary style, but as I look like this every morning, the other girl's in my dorm (Mary, Marlene, Emmeline, and Alice) don't comment.

I pull my school robes on, place my wand (willow, 10 and 1 quarter inches) in my bag along with several textbooks and scroll on which I did my astronomy homework the previous night, and hurry downstairs into the gryffindor common room. I don't wait for my friends - they always arrive in the great hall for breakfast at least 10 mere minutes before time for lessons. I, on the other hand, breakfast early so I can spend time studying, therefore generally having more time to enjoy myself during the evening. Also, I can't bear not being places at the perfect time - a punctuality fanatic, you could call me. And people do, all the time.

I can hear the fat lady screeching as I sprint down the corridor, but don't bother to pause and tell her to shut it. It'll be only a matter of seconds before-

"Evans! Evans! Wait up!"

He does it every morning. Messes up my daily routine, prevents me from reaching my various destinations, haunts me with that arrogant voice. I've long stopped actually being polite, and am thinking about beginning to use ignorance as an escape tool. At the moment, however, cold insults are just more fun. So I swing round to face James Potter, a scowl deeper than the one Severus Snape wears adorning my features.

"What?"

Potter raises his eyebrows, like he did yesterday, and the day before. And the day before that, come to think of it.

"Not a morning person, huh?" He stares at me, and I can feel a smirk coming on before he's even moved his lips.

"Not when I'm within a one thousand mile distance of you, I'm not." It's not the best retort, or the snappiest, but it's the best I've got. And at least a few people seem to find it funny, as I can see two 5th year students sniggering and grinning at me as they walk past. They look so small, now I'm a seventh year. I'm gazing at them as the walk away, so I don't notice an additional irritant eagerly planning which annoying comment he's going to use on me.

"Toucheeeeeeeee..." drawls Sirius Black, Potter's best friend, sauntering up behind him. I glare at everyone in general to get my point across, before turning on my heel, stalking away from the two boys I hate most in the world. I can't afford to be wound up by them - my position as head girl is precious to me. How Potter became head boy is a mystery, and it doesn't seem to be a precious postion to _him_. It's a wonder he hasn't had it taken off him already, all the detentions he gets. Doesn't he care about the importance of the honour of Hogwarts? I am proud to say I've never had a detention, and the only points I ever lost for Gryffindor were in first year, when older students mostly don't really mind about it. So most people think I've never lost a single point, and it suits me.

I'm so deep in my thoughts I almost don't here Potter shouting after me. Almost.

"Go on, Evans! Go out with me. You want to really!"

I hope no-one sees the hex that hits him in the chest seconds later.

When I reach the great hall, Mary is waiting for me, being the only other early riser out of all the Gryffindor girls. Possibly she hasn't noticed the large smudge of coal dust across her cheek, which appeared last night after she fell asleep in front of the fireplace. I had to drag her into her bed, I remember.

I butter some toast, taking care to avoid rich food such as bacon and sausages. I can't really stomach that sort of thing at this time. I'm just pouring a glass of pumpkin juice when the morning owls fly in.

Everyone stops what they're doing to watch the sight, and probably I'm the only one that notices the unmistakeable tones of James Potter (his hair bright orange) and his friends as they make thier way into the hall. Several owls surround them as they claim places at the Gryffindor table, laughing at some joke, most likely a lame one knowing them. Remus Lupin, the person I like most out of the four boys, smiles at me, and I grin back. I'm about to go over to talk to him when my owl, Tuney (I named her after my sister when I was in first year, even though we fell out), lands in front of me and staggers into a basket of crumpets. I wipe my mouth on my hand, and remove the letter attatched to her leg. There are two pieces of paper concealed in the envelope, one from the daily prophet, advertising thier new zoology page, and the second from a muggle friend of mine, who gives all his letters for me to my Mother to resend.

I'm disappointed by it. Loads of garbage about homework and football. I glance at Mary, who is scanning a note from her Mother.

"It was her birthday yesterday! I totally forgot!" she says, horror-stricken.

"Shame." I reply vaguely. "But too late now..."

"Lily! I've been promised a howler for tomorrow!" A loud giggle sounds from behind me. I turn to see Marlene Mckinnon, hair tied in a bouncy ponytail, laughing her head off.

"Bet'll be one to remember!" she snorts. Mary sniffs, and strides away. I suddenly remember that Marlene's arrival means that I've waited in the hall too long, that soon it will be time for class. I leap up from the bench, only to bump straight into no other than the one and only James Potter.

"Watch it, Evans." he murmurs as he catches me, stopping me from falling to the ground. "Don't want you to trip, do we?"

"Get your filthy paws off me, Potter." I spit. His hands aren't filthy. But it's a good taunt.

To my surprise, Potter lets go of me immedietely.

"Whatever you say, Evans. Whatever you say."

I leave the hall, intentionally stepping on his toes on my way out. My day has not started well.

My first class is potions. Professor Slughorn, a plump, middle-aged man who has a walrus-like moustache, pale green eyes, and has selected me as a member of his little club, takes it. Unfortunately, Sirius Black has chosen a seat directly behind me. I know this trick. He'll copy off my every move, mysteriously ending up with a perfect potion at the end of the lesson, earning him twenty 'well-earned' points for Gryffindor. It's usually Peter Pettigrew, the fourth member of the little gang that Potter is the leader of, that uses this cheat, but the others occasionally decide they're going to as well. With the possible exception of Remus.

Minutes before the lesson starts, Emmeline Vance, a girl from my dorm, rushes in the classroom, which is actually the dungeon, her fingers entwined with those of James Potter. I'm surprised. Emmeline is calm, sensible, reasonably talented. Not really the kind of person to fall for the 'charm' of Potter. Though she is gazing at him mushily, his eyes are sifting over the classroom, eventually settling on me. I hold his gaze.

Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. Using a girl as a plaything just to make me jealous! Because I know that's why he's done this. And when Potter chooses the seat I was saving for Alice Fortescue to sit on, my suspicions are confirmed. When he glances at me every time Emmeline giggles, compliments him, absent-mindedly strokes his palm, there is literally no doubt about it. Whatsoever.

It's kind of hard to concentrate on making a muffling draught when I can feel Potter's eyes on me constantly. But I'm more than used to his continuous staring, so after a somewhat large effort I manage to block out my surroundings, concentrate on the amount of dragon liver needed to be added to my cauldron. Still, at the end of the lesson, my brew is a shade lighter than what it's supposed to be. I storm out of the dungeon in a bad mood, ignoring Alice and Mary, who are shouting at me to slow down. I reach the greenhouses for herbology before anyone else. Except from Severus Snape.

When he sees me, his eyes bulge, cheeks flush. I carefully disregard him, remembering that day years ago, when he called me that unforgivable word. _Mudblood. _I can hear his voice, chanting over and over again in my head. _Mudblood. Mudblood. Mudblood. Mudblood. Mudblood._

"I'm really sorry, Lily." he's at my side. Apologising for the 50th time. But ever since I saw his true colours, I haven't been able to forgive him. And I never will. I can't believe I put up with Snape for all that time! I don't know why I even spoke to him during those years! I was foolish, but not any more.

"Leave her alone, Snape. Or I'll jinx you." It's James Potter. James Potter! I'm furious. Yes, I hate snape, but I can cope with him myself - I don't need people like Potter to help me out, who is not really in a position to tell people to leave me alone. Or insult Snape. Like he's doing now.

"You're a little snotrag, aren't you? Daring to approach her like that! You bastard-"

"Takes one to know one." I interrupt. Potter scowls.

"I was trying to HELP you, Evans. You never cease to amaze me." And with that he walks away. For some reason I feel bad. Not bad enough to apologise, of course, but still. And the fact that my friends, who heard the whole conversation and don't stop telling me how mean I was, are really not on my side, does not help. At all.

I spend herbology staying silent, not really listening to what the herbology teacher is saying. This results in a venomous tentacula biting my hand, and a trip to the hospital wing.

I decide this is officially the worst day ever.

**Yeah... This is sort of rubbish, but I've worked hard on it, so I'm uploading it anyway. It'll get better, promise!**


	2. Chapter 2

**This chapter is mostly dedicated to Lily's friendships... Not much Lily/James action, but I hope you don't mind.**

our antidotes later and still nursing my palm, the last person I want to see right now is Emmeline.

On any other day, she would be the perfect companion. She has exotic beauty - defined, angular, and dignified features, dark hair and eyes, witty in her manner and expression as well as personality, both understanding and shrewd. We aren't the best of friends - her conversations revolve more around big plans to do the impossible, and mine studies and day-to-day life - but in a time of need, we always find each other.

Having retired to the common room whilst everybody else was preparing to enjoy free period, I had made it pretty clear I wanted solitude, however. And besides, she suddenly seems to have taken on a ditzy side since...

But I'm not going to think of that.

Crossing my legs in a dainty position that would be said to be out of character, I let a perfectly manufactured glower cross across my face. Any suggestive - and not in that way - expression that is known to adorn the appearance of anyone I happen to observe has been practised to a faultless standard by myself. That way, I don't have to open my mouth to tell people how I feel. My wandering thoughts are focused so completely on that set jaw, the creased forehead, that Emmy's next words are blurred, almost, like I've been made temporarily deaf by my own mind.

"What?" My instinct for curiousity overpowers the urge to stay silent. That insistent tug has never been something I can dismiss.

"I said, are you okay?"

"Just peachy."

"Seriously."

I let my sharp green eyes flicker to her willowy figure. Those deep, inky eyes are filled with genuine concern. She seems to have forgotten her new... Companion? At least, whilst I am high on the priorities list.

"I am serious." the words slip out of my mouth, let loose by the hot temper that I am unable to dispel. "Everything is just frickin' peachy." That's the closest I ever get to cursing, and as a consequence Emmy's eyebrows shoot up.

"I'll get Marlene." She suggests. At least, I hope it's a suggestion. One that I can turn down. Marlene is the resident 'Cheer Everybody Up Gal' in Gryffindor. For a select few, all she does is irritate. Perhaps you've already perceived that I am one of those few? Spot on.

"Really." I try I keep the inner panic out of my tone. "It's fine."

"Isn't fine British for 'No, I feel like a right mess right now but I just don't want to tell you'?" Emmy has relatives in America, and though technically she is British, she spends a lot of time over the gaping Atlantic and considers herself free of the so-called British reserve.

"Think of this as the exception."

"Are you upset about James?"

My lips tighten, spreading into a thin line.

"Potter? I don't waste my time with that... that..."

Emmy opens her mouth, but myself, all too aware of her habit of finishing other people's sentences with things they would most definitely not say, hold up a hand.

"Please. No. I am perfectly enlightened on the fact that you have no shame."

She giggles; I very nearly throw something. I dislike the whole concept of giggling, and I flashback to potions, when the shrill sound attacked my ears before. It must of been the high-pitched squeals that distracted me and got me a less-than-perfect mark. Scowling, I tilt my chin downwards and try to centre my thoughts on another topic.

_Seriously, Lily. Anyone would think you're actually... jealous. _

Which clearly I am not. Just a little, well, surprised.

Sighing, I make my decision.

"Look, Emmy- Emmeline, I appreciate your, uh, concern, but I have a painful injury, that assessment from McGonagall to do, and..."

I search my supposedly intelligent brain for a suitable fib. What I come up with, as Marlene would say, is LAME.

"...My owl has Chickenpox. She might die, the healer said." Really? Chickenpox? I hold back the foot which is desperate to make the phrase: 'I want to kick myself' a reality.

"What's... _chickenpox?" _She's bewildered, I note. Utterly bewildered. "...Is Tuney going to turn into a chicken or something?" Emmy is half-blood, but has lived in the wizarding world all her life. Whoops. I laugh nervously.

"I'm not sure. That was just the... diagnosis. Weird name, huh?"

"Yeah. You poor thing. I can't imagine how I would feel is Maxi fell ill... I mean..."

As she rambles, I inwardly chuckle. The conversation is suddenly very strange. I make a mental note to ask my Dad if owls can actually get chickenpox next time I write to him. But first, I need my alone time.

"-And Emmy?"

She beams.

"Yeah, Lily?"

"I really want to just be alone right now."

"Oh! Sure. Well, um..."

"Bye."

"Yeah..."

"I'll see you later."

"Sure."

She hesitates, looking awkward.

"_Really."_

Nodding fervently, she turns on her heel and skips out the door. I hear the _tap tap tap _of her feet as she descends the staircase.

Phew.

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"Lils?"

The whisper is so light, so breathy, I'm not sure I've heard it. It IS midnight, after all, and I'm pretty sure the other girls in the dorm are asleep. However, sure enough, Mary MacDonald's eyes are wide open and reflecting the light of her wand.

"Lumos." I murmur, illuminating the area around me with my also now-glowing wand.

"Yeah?"

"Can we talk?"

"Uh.. Sure."

With my best friend, I am, at least, comfortable.

"I heard Tuney has chickenpox."

"That was a... stupid rumour. Can owls even get chickenpox?"

My muggle-born friend shrugs.

"Wonder which idiot thought that one up, right?"

"Hehehe." I say. Composing myself, I think of Mary, who looks... nervous. "Was that really what you wanted to say?"

"Well. Uh."

"Go on. It's just me." I'm interested now.

"I just have to tell someone Lily... I've been bottling it up and... I just can't..."

"It's okay." I try to make my voice soothing.

"You know how my boyfriend, back home, is a, well..."

"Muggle?"

"Well, yeah."

I am completely alert. Mary is honestly upset.

"Anyway, my sister, Jennifer, got her letter for Hogwarts."

"Really? That's great! Two witches is one muggle family! What Petunia would do for..." I break off.

"Joseph saw her doing magic."

Whaaaat? At a lost for words, I probably put my foot in it.

"Not so great."

"She's only little... She panicked... She said he was so admiring..."

"And?"

"She told him everything. About me. The wizarding world. All of it. You can hardly blame her, she doesn't know about that international secrecy thing..." Mary looks on the verge of tears.

"Shhhhh. Don't cry. It'll be okay... The ministry will just obliviate him..."

She shakes her head. "It was someone inexperienced. They wiped it a bit to hard. Now he can't remember the past two years... He can't remember meeting me. And even if he could, how could we even be together? I'm a witch, and..." She really is crying now.

"Shhhhh. Surely they can undo it!"

"No. No they can't. They've apologised, tried to cover everything up... They have covered everything up... But." The pitiful wimpers Mary is letting escape from her are painful to hear. Throwing the covers off, I cross the space between our two beds and give her a bear hug.

"E-everything we had is gone." Torrents of tears, cascaing onto the bedsheet... All I can do is hug her whilst she sobs.

"I'm so, so sorry."

She hiccups, wiping her eyes.

"They'll be other boys. I know it's not the most tactful thing to say, but there will be. You just have to accept this and get on with your life. Trust me."

"T-thanks, Lily. I-I'm lucky that... your my... friend."

"Go to sleep." I whisper, still perched on the edge of her mattress. "Get some rest."

"S-sure."

"Great."

She smiles as I slip under my own duvet.

"Lily?"

"Yeah?"

"James... Doesn't like Emmy... He likes..."

Just as I'm about to protest, he eyes flicker shut, overcome by the tides of sleep.

"...You."

I frown at the ceiling.

**Looooong wait, I know.**

**I was going to give up on this, but I had a motivation.. *winks*.**

**You know who you are.**

**Anyway, I might still occasionally update this if I have the time.**

**So, maybe see you soon? You DEFINITELY will if I get reviews. Lots of them.**

**Oh! And, I tried to do a break line (-) but it didn't work, so the compromise was a weird 0-0-0-0 thingy. Ah well.**

**Au revoir! **

**Frances xx**


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